by Tawny Weber
“Another divorce case?”
“You got it.”
Cooper rolled his eyes and continued toward the door.
As they entered the large, modern office, a tall, imposing woman stood and came around the desk. “I thought you were on your way to the islands,” she said without preamble.
“Hello to you, too, Vicki.”
She ignored his rebuke and planted her hands on her hips. Obviously, Cooper didn’t intimidate her one little bit. “So, what are you doing here?”
Motioning toward Jessie, he said, “Vicki, meet Jessie Burkett. Jessie, this is Victoria Fernandez. Despite her lack of manners, she’s the second-best detective in South Florida.”
“Hah!” Victoria turned and extended her hand to Jessie. “Don’t believe him, Jessie. His overinflated male ego often gets in his way. Ask anyone.”
“No need.” She shot a glance at Cooper. “I’ve noticed.”
“Ladies,” Cooper interjected, “if you can stop maligning my character for a moment, I’ve got work to do. Jessie is Nicole Whitlock’s sister.” Then, as if he needed to clarify, he added, “As in Judge Whitlock’s missing wife.”
That seemed to spark Victoria’s interest. “Oh, really? So the islands are on hold?”
“The islands are on hold.”
“Okay,” she said, suddenly all-business. “Sounds more interesting than the divorce case I’m working. What would you like me to do?”
“I need to go talk to Whitlock. And since he and Jessie aren’t on the best of terms, I’d hoped you’d watch her for a few hours for me.”
“This isn’t necessary,” Jessie said. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
Ignoring her, Cooper continued talking to Victoria. “It looks like the judge’s wife has gone into hiding, and there are several interested parties who seem to think Jessie can enlighten them as to her whereabouts.”
Victoria turned to Jessie and smiled warmly. “There’s a private dining room upstairs. We’ll go eat and then come back here. If that’s okay with you?”
“Really,” Jessie insisted, “you don’t have to do this.”
Evidently, neither Victoria nor Cooper cared what she thought. “Thanks, Vicki,” he said before shifting his attention back to Jessie. “You’ll be safe here. Victoria’s the best.”
“Next to you, of course.” Jessie let the sarcasm drip from her voice.
“That goes without saying.” He smiled his I-want-you-to-believe-I’m-just-a-regular-guy smile and headed for the door, where he paused. “And Vicki?” He turned back to face them. “Watch her.” He nodded toward Jessie. “She has a tendency to get into trouble when left to her own devices.”
Before Jessie could respond, he was out the door.
“Does he always do that?” Jessie asked.
“You mean take off without giving anyone else a chance to comment, give an opinion, or get a word in edgewise?”
“Yeah,” Jessie said.
Victoria nodded. “Always.”
“Great.”
Victoria studied her for a moment and then asked, “Hungry?”
“Starving.” In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Sometime yesterday.
“Come on. Let’s head upstairs, and you can tell me all about your sister and the good judge.”
“Only if you promise to tell me all about your partner.”
Victoria grinned. “We aren’t partners. Cooper doesn’t take partners. But I can tell you a thing or two.”
Cooper had never quite gotten used to the ostentatious displays of the wealthy. Although he should have. In the five years since he’d left the Bureau and gone to work in the private sector, he’d been surrounded by the very rich and their trappings. Still, it made him uncomfortable. Ironically, with the money he’d stashed away over the last few years he’d probably be classified as well-off himself.
The honorable Judge Robert Whitlock, however, was much more than well-off. His family had been wintering in South Florida since the nineteen twenties, and at some point, they’d settled in to stay. Since then, three generations of Whitlocks had dabbled in politics in Fort Lauderdale—a playground for the very rich.
So Cooper shouldn’t have been surprised by the house.
Just south of the Broward County line, in one of the few stretches of oceanfront property that could claim private residences, the Whitlock home spoke of old money. The land itself was worth millions. Add to that a ten-, maybe twelve-thousand-square-foot mansion, and Cooper couldn’t even imagine the kind of money it took to own the place. Nor did he want to. Unlike many of the homeowners in the area, Whitlock had restored the original structure. It was old-world Florida with acres of tiled roof, sweeping verandas, and pale peach stucco.
A housekeeper answered the door. She’d evidently been expecting him. After inspecting his identification, she led him down marble-floored halls to what he assumed was Whitlock’s office.
She knocked lightly and then opened the door. “Señor Whitlock, Mr. Cooper is here.”
“Thank you, Rosa.” Whitlock stood and came around his desk, his hand extended. “Mr. Cooper, it’s good to see you again.”
“Judge Whitlock.”
“Please, don’t be so formal. Robert will do.”
Cooper nodded. “Robert.”
“Please . . .” Whitlock motioned toward a heavy leather chair.
Cooper sat, and Whitlock returned to his place behind the desk. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you here.”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
Whitlock folded his hands carefully in front of him, studying them for a moment before answering. “Well, I imagine Jessie has told you about Nicole.”
“She’s told me that her sister is missing, yes.”
Whitlock sighed audibly. “I’m beside myself with worry.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I’m afraid this might involve someone who has a grudge against me. Maybe someone I sent to prison.”
“That’s always a possibility.” Although Cooper didn’t buy it. “Have you received a ransom call or note?”
Whitlock shook his head. “No. Nothing.”
“Seems like you would have . . .” Cooper watched carefully for Whitlock’s reaction “. . . if someone had kidnapped her.”
“Unless . . .” Whitlock closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them. His pain caught Cooper unaware. “Unless they’ve already killed her.”
Cooper had to grant it to him—if this was an act, Whitlock was one hell of an actor. “I think you can rule that out,” he said, surprised at his own impulse to offer Whitlock reassurance. “If one of your enemies had killed Nicole, you would have received a note of some kind. After all, what good is revenge if it’s kept a secret?”
Whitlock nodded and smiled tightly, his self-control once again firmly in place. “Of course. You’re right.”
“However,” Cooper said, “I doubt you needed me to tell you that. So why am I here?”
Whitlock hesitated a moment or two longer and then said, “I did some checking around after we met last night. Watching out for Jessie. You understand.”
“Of course.” Although Cooper doubted the other man had any concern about Jessie.
“You’ve made quite a reputation for yourself.”
Cooper nodded, dismissing the compliment. “I do my best.”
“Don’t we all.” Whitlock seemed distracted for a moment, then smiled self-consciously and refocused on Cooper. “The reason I asked you here is to hire you to find my wife.”
Cooper sat a little straighter. He hadn’t expected this. A man like Whitlock could have every law-enforcement agency in the county jumping through hoops. Besides, he’d seen Cooper with Jessie last night.
Before he could respond, however, Whitlock continued. “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Cooper.”
“Please do.”
“We both know that the police are . . . overworked?” He met
Cooper’s gaze and held it. “I want my wife back, and I’m told you are the man who can find her for me.”
“Well, I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Cooper said. “But I already have a client.”
“Jessie?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see.” Whitlock frowned, again studying his folded hands. “I didn’t want to mention this, but it seems I have no choice.” He looked up then and pinned Cooper with his gaze. “My sister-in-law is unbalanced.”
Cooper shifted in his chair but didn’t respond. He’d come to listen to Robert Whitlock’s side of things, and no matter how disturbing, he intended to hear it.
“Actually,” Whitlock said, “I blame myself.”
Again Cooper remained silent.
“Did Jessie tell you how Nicole and I met?” Then, without giving Cooper a chance to reply, he added, “Of course she didn’t. And who could blame her?” Whitlock sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You see, Mr. Cooper, Jessie introduced me to Nicole. And, well . . .” He glanced away, obviously hesitating. “I guess there’s no easy way to say this. Jessie and I were engaged to be married at the time.”
Years of discipline kept Cooper from reacting. On the outside, anyway. Inside, he felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Then he had to clamp down on an unexpected surge of anger. He didn’t like being lied to or working with only half the facts.
“I’m not proud of what happened,” Whitlock said. “But Jessie and I”—he lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness— “well, how can I say this? I cared for Jessie, but I never loved her. And I doubt she ever truly loved me.”
“Yet you were going to marry her.” Cooper forced the words past the knot of anger in his chest.
“My first wife died very young. I was devastated and never expected to love another woman.” He carefully refolded his hands. “I met Jessie several years later, through mutual friends. I get up to Chicago fairly regularly, and we knew each other for years before deciding to marry. We were comfortable with each other. I never expected more.” He paused. “Then I met Nicole.”
“And you fell in love?” Cooper couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice.
“Yes,” Whitlock answered, looking up to meet Cooper’s gaze. “I know how this sounds. A man my age falling head-over-heels in love with a beautiful young woman. A woman young enough to be my daughter.” He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh and glanced away. “As they say, there’s no fool like an old fool.”
Cooper remained silent. There wasn’t anything he could say that Whitlock didn’t already know himself.
“Nicole is so beautiful,” Whitlock said, and then looked back at Cooper with a new intensity in his eyes. “But it’s more than her beauty. There’s an innocence and purity about her that makes her very special.”
He fell silent. Cooper gave him a few minutes, still struggling with his own sense of betrayal. Finally, he said, “That doesn’t make Jessie unbalanced.”
Whitlock leaned back in his chair. “When I called off our engagement and told Jessie how I felt about Nicole, she didn’t take it well.”
“Do you blame her?”
“No.” The judge shook his head. “Not at first. I’d never meant to, but I’d hurt her badly. I understood that. So Nicole and I decided to wait a year before going forward with our marriage plans. However, Jessie never came around.” He leaned forward again to rest his arms on his desk. “In fact, she did everything in her power to stop our marriage. She failed, but she still couldn’t accept it. So instead of wishing us the best, she has spent the last three years badgering and begging Nicole to leave me. She’s made our lives miserable, making Nicole doubt herself and me.” His voice had grown angrier with each word. Now he paused, obviously making an attempt to calm himself. Finally, with a sigh, he settled back in his chair. “Have you ever been married, Mr. Cooper?”
“No.”
“Marriage is not easy. Jessie has made ours almost impossible. Nicole adores her sister and would do anything for her. Jessie has used that fact, and it tore Nicole apart.” He paused again, as if giving Cooper time to assimilate his words. “It’s taken years for Nicole to stand up to Jessie.” His eyes narrowed. “And this is the woman you’re working for.”
Having made his argument, Whitlock fell silent once more.
Cooper hesitated, picking his words carefully. “I’m sorry, Judge Whitlock, but none of this has any bearing on my professional relationship with Miss Burkett. Or on whether I can find your wife.”
At first, Whitlock looked stunned. Then his anger returned. Despite the judge’s attempt to hide it, Cooper saw it in the hard glint of his eyes and the throbbing pulse in his temple. Obviously, he’d expected a different response.
“Jessie can’t afford you,” Whitlock said. “Work for me . . .” he paused, making sure he had Cooper’s full attention “. . . and you can name your price.”
Cooper didn’t move, gauging his own response, tightening his control. He didn’t like Whitlock’s implication. In fact, he didn’t like Whitlock, period. He didn’t want the man’s money and wasn’t about to be bought. However, it wouldn’t do him any good to let the honorable judge in on his thoughts. So Cooper smiled, or gave what he hoped was a close facsimile of a smile. “It doesn’t really matter who I’m working for, now does it?” Of course, both of them knew differently. “As long as I find your wife.”
Whitlock glared at him, evidently unfamiliar with rejection of any kind. Finally, he smiled tightly, once again playing the game. “Of course, that is what’s important.” Then, after a moment’s pause, which Cooper suspected the judge needed to draw his emotions more tightly under control, he said, “If there’s anything I can do to help you, all you need do is ask.”
“There is one thing.” Cooper broadened his smile, acting as if he hadn’t just stepped on the toes of one of the most powerful men in Broward County. “I need to talk to the people who knew your wife—friends, neighbors, staff, even her hairdresser. I was hoping you could supply those names.”
“Rosa will help you.” Whitlock picked up the telephone on his desk and pressed a button. After a moment, he spoke into the receiver. “Send Rosa in, please.”
They sat in tense silence until the housekeeper appeared in the doorway. “You asked to see me, señor?”
Whitlock stood, and Cooper followed suit. “Rosa, Mr. Cooper is helping the police look for Mrs. Whitlock. He needs information. Please cooperate with him any way you can.”
“Of course.”
Whitlock shifted his attention back to Cooper. “If you change your mind. . . ”
“I won’t.”
Anger flashed again in Whitlock’s eyes, and Cooper wondered if he would end up regretting this particular decision. Then he pushed the thought aside. He’d made wrong decisions before and paid the price, but this one felt right.
“Thank you for coming,” the judge said. Without moving from behind the desk, he extended his hand, forcing Cooper to step forward. “And I expect everything we’ve talked about here to be kept strictly confidential.”
“Of course.” With that, Cooper turned and followed the housekeeper out of the office.
As Rosa led him back the way they’d come earlier, he shoved all thoughts of Jessie aside. He would deal with her later. Right now he wanted to know who Nicole Whitlock associated with. He told Rosa the type of information he needed. When they reached the front hall, she said, “Señora Whitlock kept her address and appointment books in her study. If you wait here, I will get them for you.”
She started to turn, but Cooper stopped her. “I’d like to come with you, if I may.”
She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Upstairs?”
Cooper smiled and slipped his hand into his pockets. “Sometimes it helps to see the missing person’s room.” He shrugged. “I might find a clue as to what happened.”
She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of this stranger in señora Whitlock’s suite.
&n
bsp; “If it will make you feel better,” he offered, “let’s go ask Judge Whitlock.”
She thought about that for a moment and then shook her head. “No. He is a very busy man.” She headed toward the stairs. “This way, please.”
Nicole’s sitting room surprised him.
Everything about the house so far had whispered of old money. Then Rosa had led him into a room that hinted of something else, only Cooper decided he would need an advanced degree in psychology to figure out exactly what. The room was as elegant as the rest of the house except for one thing: stuffed animals. Dozens of them, all shapes and sizes, filling every nook and cranny.
He’d never seen anything quite like it.
“Señora collects them,” Rosa said, as if reading his thoughts.
“Evidently.” He didn’t know what else to say.
Ignoring his comment, Rosa walked over to the desk by the window. Opening the drawer, she pulled out two small books and offered them to Cooper. “Will these do?”
Accepting the books, he took a few minutes to glance through them for the information he needed. Another surprise. Nicole Whitlock had been both efficient and meticulous. In a small, feminine hand, she’d recorded names and addresses of everyone from Jacob Anderson to the grocery-delivery boy.
It was odd.
He’d expected names and addresses of other socially prominent people. Or old friends. Jacob Anderson would certainly qualify. But why would Nicole Whitlock keep, in her personal address book, information of every service person she or her household used?
“Did you show these to the police?” he asked, looking up from the books.
Rosa straightened and met his gaze. “They didn’t ask.”
Cooper shook his head in disgust. “Can I borrow them?” Before she could object, he added, “I’ll have them copied and returned tomorrow.”
Again she hesitated, and Cooper tried to curb his impatience. “Please, go ask Judge Whitlock.”
“No,” she said abruptly. “Just return them.”
“Thank you.” He nodded, and she started toward the door. “One more thing, Rosa.”
She stopped and looked back at him. The lack of expression on her face told him she was eager to be rid of him. “I need to speak to the staff.”